"So you're telling me he's never helped McLeod kill another immortal? They're friends, but he'll just sit back and watch whenever someone's after his friend's head? Even though he could just contact the other's watcher and ..."
"Hold on, you were what?" He thought he'd heard McLeod call Benjamin Methos, but the name had meant nothing to him then or now. Adam Pierson made a little more sense. He had a few alternate names himself that he switched between every thirty years or so. It was easier than pretending to be his own son.
But when had all this happened? And was Methos a nickname he'd gotten for looking for that Methos? Was there really a Methos or was it just a sort of nickname for mythical immortals in the first place, something Watchers used to say 'Unidentified Immortal'?
"Yes." Methos said. "That's what he does. He does help McLeod figure out if an Immortal come to town would be likely to be after McLeod's head, though. McLeod really isn't into duelling any more than he needs to. Not the real hardcore "I'll cut your head off" kind of duelling anyway."
He mopped dry another tiny patch of floor.
"I was one of them." He hesitated. Then he put down his tools and rolled up his sleeve slightly, showing him his tattoo.
"See? That's the mark they wear. I was one of them and I got myself assigned to research myself. It was fun. After all these millennia, I get bored easily."
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"Hold on, you were what?" He thought he'd heard McLeod call Benjamin Methos, but the name had meant nothing to him then or now. Adam Pierson made a little more sense. He had a few alternate names himself that he switched between every thirty years or so. It was easier than pretending to be his own son.
But when had all this happened? And was Methos a nickname he'd gotten for looking for that Methos? Was there really a Methos or was it just a sort of nickname for mythical immortals in the first place, something Watchers used to say 'Unidentified Immortal'?
"Yes." Methos said. "That's what he does. He does help McLeod figure out if an Immortal come to town would be likely to be after McLeod's head, though. McLeod really isn't into duelling any more than he needs to. Not the real hardcore "I'll cut your head off" kind of duelling anyway."
He mopped dry another tiny patch of floor.
"I was one of them." He hesitated. Then he put down his tools and rolled up his sleeve slightly, showing him his tattoo.
"See? That's the mark they wear. I was one of them and I got myself assigned to research myself. It was fun. After all these millennia, I get bored easily."